Heart to Heart
by angelinconflict
Summary: Third part in the Well Runneth Eternal Series, Sam and Dean decide that it's time to take a break and bar hop for a night, but when a spirit threatens forty lives in a karaoke bar, the brothers realize that there is no such thing as 'off duty'.


For the first time in a while, the brothers decided to take a break from hunting. Together they frequented all the bars in Sioux Falls taking enjoyment in having several drinks together and managing a laugh or two when arriving at their very first karaoke bar. It was the first time in a long time that the brothers had been able to act like brothers. Dean was on his ninth beer of the night and Sam was on his third, not being a real heavy drinker.

Because of this, he suddenly noticed a change in the atmosphere. Last bar of the night and Sam started to feel a sense of warning. He examined the entire bar by turning around in his chair.

"What is with you, Sammy?" Dean finally asked, after it was clear his brother was no longer involved in the conversation about the last female singer who looked like a woman Dean dated in high school.

Sam turned around and placed his arms on the table as he leaned in. "I have a bad feeling," he admitted in a husk of concern.

"A bad feeling?" Dean repeated, taking a gulp of his beer.

"Maybe we should get out of here." Sam was already getting out of his chair and pulling his jacket on.

"Come on, man, I'm sure it's nothing," Dean laughed, standing as well.

"When is it ever nothing?" Sam retorted. "Let's just go, okay, Dean."

"Oh fine, just let me finish my beer."

Sam stood there impatiently while his brother gulped down the remaining dregs, shaking the bottle to receive the last drops—probably in an attempt to annoy Sam. It was working. "Dean," he groaned.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, placing the bottle down on the table.

Nearing the exit and Dean spoke the words Sam had been dreading ever since their confrontation with Tessa. "Hey, now that we're bonding… or whatever, tell me what happened in Luckless?"

Sam felt his mouth go dry. "You don't wanna know the details, Dean" he answered vaguely. He never made it even a step before Dean's hand was on his shoulder.

"I wanna know what I'm missing; I also wanna know why I'm missing it. Did Cas do something? Did he mind wipe me? Sam," he started when Sam was unable to utter a word in response, "I deserve to know the truth."

Sam bowed his head, hating himself more now than when he had first promised to keep this dreaded secret. "Look, you were dying and Cas saved you. What more do you need to know?"

"The in between," Dean hissed. "All of it. Why was I dying? How did Cas save me? Why did he mind wipe me?"

"I didn't say…"

"It's implied."

Sam turned to face his brother. "The succubus we were hunting… she was the woman you met at the bar."

"Okay…"

"She kissed you, Dean."

Dean nodded, "I remember that; it was a good kiss… real good."

"Yeah, well she was sucking the energy out of your soul."

"Jesus…"

"You were dying… it didn't take long until you were as comatose as the rest of her victims. There was nothing else to do but call Cas…"

Sam's hesitance fuelled Dean's impatience. "And…" he pressed, moving aside, allowing a couple to brush past him.

"And he helped me save you. That's it. That's all that happened."

"So I was dying and you and Cas miraculously saved me?"

"Exactly. Can we go now?"

Dean's hand gripped tighter to Sam's shoulder. "So… why did Tessa insist that it was Cas who saved me? Why say it was just him if you had a part in it too, huh Sammy?"

"Because he had a bigger part," Sam replied, knowing that even saying that much might be crossing the line.

"What did he do?"

An argument had broken out several feet from them. The couple that had just passed were arguing with the bouncer. "I'm telling you, the door is locked!"

"We don't lock the doors, ma'am," the muscular bouncer said without an ounce of emotion.

"It's locked! Brian tried it twice!"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, however Sam's was one meant to say "I told you" before both went to the couple.

"What's going on?" Dean laughed.

"This bouncer has decided that he is going to be a laugh riot and lock us in," the woman stormed, crossing her thin arms.

"The door is not locked," the bouncer insisted in a gruff tone now.

"It is," called the high pitch of Brian, the boyfriend. "I just checked it again."

Sam pushed past all of them to the doors, pushing on the handles. The doors were definitely locked. He turned to Dean and nodded with subtlety. Dean made a face of regret. He approached the bouncer with calm steps. "Do you by chance have a key?"

The bouncer turned to face him. "Why?"

Dean cleared his throat, turned to Sam who nodded again pushing once more just to be sure, and returned his eyes to the bouncer's stark face, replying with, "The doors are locked."

The bouncer, no longer able to keep his cool, marched to the doors and attempted to open them. For a moment there was only silence, but soon it was broken by a terrified shriek from the woman. "Are we locked in?"

"Check the back door," Dean ordered to Brian.

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Are you a cop?"

"We're both cops," Dean snapped, motioning to Sam with a nod of his head. "Now go check the back doors and try not to alert anyone."

"You're cops?" whimpered the woman, approaching Dean with tears on her cheeks. "Why would cops be in a karaoke bar?"

"We're not on duty," Sam replied before Dean could say a word. "We're here as patrons just like everyone else."

The woman relaxed a little. "Well, this is probably just some stupid prank, right?"

"Probably," Sam muttered but with obvious doubt in his tone.

The bouncer handed Sam his ring of keys, indicating which one would unlock the doors. Sam gave Dean a fleeting look before heading to the doors with the key in hand.

The bouncer turned to Dean. "I have been a loyal worker for a long time. I don't play pranks."

Dean bit on his bottom lip then nodded, patting the large bouncer's arm. "It's okay, man, we believe you."

"The key isn't working," Sam called.

"What's going on?" the woman shrieked.

"You need to calm down, okay? We got this," Dean demanded, eyeing her fiercely.

She nodded with a whimper.

Dean approached his brother just as the lights began to flicker wildly, shocking not just them but all the patrons who were still there. Even the latest singer dropped the microphone onto the stage with a loud clang.

"Come on! Now? Right now?" Dean snuffed in annoyance, glancing around the circumference of the bar. "We were just getting this party started!"

"Dean," Sam huffed.

"Obviously, we have sucky timing."

"If it's a spirit, we need to know everything we can about the history of this bar before people start… dying."

Dean's voice was ragged. "There have gotta be at least forty people in here. What the hell are we supposed to do? Soon everyone is gonna start panicking."

"We keep everyone calm by doing what we do best."

"What's that?"

"Lying."

Sam pressed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm gonna check on Brian."

"This is bad, Sammy, and there are a lot of potential bodies in here for the angry spirit to target."

Sam nodded, glanced to the bar where a trembling waitress stood, gripping a bottle of whiskey tight in her fist, and walked over. "Hey, you got any salt?"

The waitress stared at him with a look that indicated she thought he might be crazy. "I'm sorry… salt?"

"Uh… yeah."

She was fingering something around her neck, a heart shaped pendent with a diamond at its center. "Who are you?" she choked, lifting the bottle in threat.

"I'm one of the good guys," he gasped, stepping back a little, "please lower the whiskey bottle and let me explain."

"That's just what the bad guy would say, wouldn't he?" she retorted trying to suppress her fierce trembling.

"Probably," admitted Sam. "But… just look into my eyes, okay? Look into my eyes and tell me if you still think I'm a bad guy. If you still haven't changed your mind, you can hit me with that bottle."

The waitress gazed into his eyes for a long time before lowering the bottle slowly. "I'm Anne," she introduced to him.

"Hi, Anne, I'm Sam and the guy talking to the bouncer there," he added, pointing to the exit, "that's my brother, Dean. I know this is going to sound strange, but what do you know about this bar?"

Some patrons were talking amongst themselves; some were so stupidly drunk that they were laughing, and some were watching Sam and Anne intently and suspiciously. "I dunno… it's a bar, just like any other bar, I guess. Does it matter?"

"Yeah," Sam replied softly.

Anne sighed, twisting the gold chain of her necklace as she spoke. "This place was built twenty-five years ago. The owners died of old age and now my new boyfriend owns the place."

"Your boyfriend?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah… he's here, somewhere. Anyway, he bought the place a couple years ago, and turned it into a Karaoke bar; it used to be a saloon."

Sam nodded. "How about before the bar was built? Was there a graveyard or a prison here?"

Anne laughed awkwardly. "No. Why would you ask that, Sam?"

"Um… no reason… just… I'll be right back, alright? If you can, try to keep people calm."

Anne nodded. "I'll just offer them all free alcohol."

Dean watched as his brother finished his relatively long chat with the waitress and booked it to the back. "Aw man, Sammy," he laughed. "She's not bad." The waitress was a pretty petite blond with an aquiline nose and well-formed lips. She had just started pouring drinks when Dean heard a voice whisper in his ear. He turned to face the giant bouncer, worried that he was being hit on.

"Hey," he greeted, clearing his throat.

"Hey yourself," the bouncer countered, crossing his thick arms.

Dean nodded, "okay." With that, he escaped to scope out the rest of the bar. The waitress was now serving drinks to all the patrons.

"It's on the house," she insisted.

"Are we getting a light show?" asked one of the more drunk patrons, swerving awkwardly in his chair. Dean grabbed the drunk by both arms before he could hit the floor.

"Alright, buddy, you're cut off."

The waitress stood there eyeing him. "You're Sam's brother, Dean, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yep, and you're…"

"Anne," she replied, taking her full tray to the next group of people. "Why do you need salt?"

Dean laughed. "It's just a preventative measure."

"Okay, preventing what?"

"Evil," Dean replied in a hiss.

Anne paused in her serving duties to simply stare at Dean. He took the full glass from her to place in front of one of the chatty patrons who took it eagerly. "I'm sorry?" he heard Anne respond. "Evil?"

"It's hard to explain…"

"But you'll try," she cut in.

Dean forced a smile, taking another full glass to serve to yet another chatty patron. "I will definitely try."

Together they served the rest of the drinks before both approaching the bar. He followed her behind it, and she bent down only to come up holding a box of salt. "We serve Tequila," she said with a shrug, handing the box to him.

"Do you have more?" Dean asked.

"In the basement."

Dean laughed. "Of course it's in the basement. Fine, I will go and get more, but what you can do for me right now is just sprinkle this inconspicuously around everyone's table. Let everyone know that they need to stay seated for the time being because the cops need to check things out. Can you handle that, Anne?"

Anne took the box from him. "You do understand how crazy this sounds, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware, but it's a lifesaver, you can trust me on that."

She sighed heavily, smiled weakly, then turned around to obediently do as he had asked. Dean was not entirely confident about entering the basement, especially with a psychotic spirit on the loose just waiting for the right time to strike in a locked bar full of people. He found that the basement was actually more like a cellar with the door hidden beneath a small red carpet. He lifted the carpet, pulled open the cellar door and descended into darkness. "Great," he mumbled, hoping that he was close to the bottom. "Yeah, I'm sure this isn't going to be the stupidest move I've ever made. Go ahead, Dean, just walk right into the spirit's trap. Nope, no consequences here." He felt around him for a light switch but besides the small glow coming from above him, he was walking blind.

Anne's voice calmed his nerves a little. "Hey, did you find the salt?"

"I can't even find the light switch, sweetheart," he yelled up to her.

"Okay, I'm coming, just a sec." He heard a creak then seconds later a slam, resulting in pitch black nothingness.

"Anne!" Dean called, racing up the stairs to pound on the door. "Anne, you there? What's goin on?"

"Dean, the door just slammed closed! I can't open it!"

"Come on, you pull and I'll push," he suggested, putting all his weight into the door. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she called back.

"Now!"

Dean pushed as hard as he could on the door, but it was no use. All their effort did not even budge it an inch. "Damnit," he cursed, falling back to breathe heavily. "Get Sam," he demanded.

"What's happening?" Anne cried.

"I don't know!"

"Dean…"

"Please, just get Sam!"

He heard Anne retreat from the door and Dean sank onto one of the stairs. He had no idea what he was going to do now. Breaking into his thoughts was the voice, the whisper he had heard before. This time it was closer. "Who's there?" he demanded, getting up to confront whatever had followed him down there. "Hey!"

"Dean…"

A pale yellow glow cut through the darkness, revealing a dangling bulb in the center of the cellar. Beneath the bulb was a woman, bruises stamped on her cheeks, rips and tears in the material of her thin summer dress, and a necklace clasped around her neck. "Do I know you?" he asked cautiously, climbing down the steep stairs to stand in front of her.

"No," she replied, "but you… you can help me…" with this plea, she reached an arm toward him, fingers spread out in an effort to touch him. He dodged it by stumbling back.

"Are you the one haunting the joint?" He asked.

"Dean, please…"

"How do you know my name?" He snapped.

The spirit was in tears. "Please, Dean… help me."

"How?" he shouted now.

The spirit pressed her hand to his chest until her transparent fingers sank through. "The infinite soul," she choked.

"What?" He was cringing to her cold and breezy touch.

"True… pure… love…"

He cleared his throat, watching as her hand travelled up to his neck. "I'm not special, okay? It's just a soul like everyone else's… like yours." The woman's eyes lifted to meet his, to connect with his in desperation. "You can help me, Dean…"

"How?"

A knock from above him startled the spirit, causing her to vanish. "Dean!" Sam called.

"Sam?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah! You?"

"I'm not the one trapped in a cellar," Sam remarked. "Have you learned nothing from our job? What made you think going down there wouldn't be a bad thing?"

"I was looking for salt," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I was looking for salt," he said louder. "You know what? Enough with the third degree, angel lover, just get me the hell out of here!"

"Anne is here with me," Sam informed with a biting tone of warning in his voice.

"It's just an inside joke, Anne," Dean insisted.

"Sure," he heard her mumble. "I will just add it to the list of strange things you two have said tonight."

"We appreciate that," Sam said in his usual tone of calm integrity.

Dean and Sam tried the same technique as had been attempted by Dean and Anne, but he was still trapped. "Wimp," Dean huffed, sinking again.

A scream made Dean jump to his feet. "What's goin on?" he ordered. Both Sam and Anne were gone, leaving him to fear the worst—someone was dead. The spirit had claimed a life before he or Sam could do anything to stop it. He pressed his ear to the door to listen for anything of importance or relevance. Anne's voice was louder than the rest.

"Why were you in the washroom, Peter? I told you to stay seated! What were you thinking?"

"You were putting salt around the tables; I didn't think you were serious!"

"Well I was!"

Sam's voice chimed in; good old reliable Sammy. "You said someone attacked you? What did they look like?"

"I dunno, it was really weird!"

"Like how?" Sam pressed.

"I dunno… she was in the mirror, but when I turned around, she was gone. I dunno what the hell!"

Sam's resounding question was the same one Dean would have asked. "She?"

"Look, she's probably in here, somewhere! She's crazy!"

Dean jerked with a gasp to the feel of a cold hand on his shoulder; he could feel the fingers, pressing into his flesh. "I can't do it… not without you…"

"I'm not killing for you, okay, so just… back off!" He ordered with growing anger. "You hear me, bitch?"

"Dean!" He heard Sam yell through the crack in the door.

"Still stuck," he answered. "What's going on up there?"

"Well, besides a potential moron not listening and nearly getting himself killed, nothing much. I'm doing what I can to keep everyone calm, and half the patrons are so drunk now that they're either passed out or hanging by a thread."

Dean nodded. "How's Anne doing?"

Her voice penetrated the thick wood of the door. "I'm okay, Dean. Your brother saved my boyfriend's life. I can't believe he isn't a doctor."

"Can you believe he wanted to be a lawyer?"

"Really?"

Sam spoke, "What do we do here, Dean? The doors are still locked and you're still…"

"Trapped in a cellar, yeah I know. I have no idea, dude. I wish I could give you some info but I'm tapped out, and there is nothing down here but…" He stopped, swore under his breath and got up to the potential shimmer of something on the wall.

"Dean!" Sam called in concern. "Dean, you alright? Hey!"

"Yeah," Dean called back, approaching the wall. "But I think… I found something." With that last word, he grabbed what looked like a piece of thin gold chain pressed into the wall.

"Dean, what did you find?" Sam hollered.

Dean turned slowly to meet the eyes of the spirit standing there, eyes glistening, cheeks soaked. "Is this yours?" he whispered, showing her the sliver of gold he had found.

She glanced down at her own necklace before lifting her head again. "Help… her…"

"Who?" Dean pressed, gazing into the woman's limpid brown eyes. "Who am I helping?"

The spirit lifted her head right to the ceiling. Dean followed, but saw nothing except for the ceiling.

"Dean, your brother is getting worried. Can you please convince him that you're okay?"

The spirit lowered her head again, eyes stealing into his with her heartfelt plea.

"Anne?" he guessed.

The spirit, after a long moment of silence, nodded slowly.

Dean approached the cellar door, knocked lightly, and to his amazement, it opened. "Anne," he started before Sam could utter a word of relief. "We need to have a little chat."

Dean escorted Anne away from the cellar to the back doors. "The necklace you're wearing, who gave it to you?" He asked in a calm voice.

Anne lifted her pendent to balance on the tip of her index finger. "My best friend. Why?"

Dean cleared his throat but that didn't stop his voice from breaking a little. "Did your best friend wear something similar?"

"Um… yeah, there are two parts." She showed the necklace to Dean, revealing that there was no backing to the pendent. "It's a 'best friends' necklace," she explained.

"Where is she now?" Dean asked softly, "Your best friend?"

"I don't know. She said she was going to see the world—travel all over the country, then…" she stopped midsentence, "why are you asking me this? I'm confused."

Dean felt queasy as he opened his hand to show her the fragment of a similar gold chain.

"What's that?" she whispered weakly.

"It's a piece of your best friend's necklace," he replied in as soothing a voice as he could possibly provide.

"How?" she laughed, staring at the fragment, "She's seeing the world right now. That can't be hers."

Dean pressed his hands lightly onto her shoulders. "Listen to me, Anne, I'm not a cop and neither is Sam. We're hunters. We hunt… well… evil. There is a spirit in your bar tonight—that's why the lights flickered and the doors are locked. But the spirit that's here is only targeting one person."

"You're not making sense," she whimpered, pulling herself from him. "Spirits? Hunters of evil? You and your brother are obviously crazy!"

"Anne," he called, but she cut him off with a protestant scream.

"Don't say anything else, Dean! Just… you need to leave."

"I can't…"

"Now!"

"Anne, I know how this sounds…"

"Actually, you have no idea how this sounds! You think you're a hunter! You pretended to be a cop!"

"I'm trying to be honest with you, here," he argued. "Please…"

"Stop!"

"Are you Dean?" A gruff voice demanded.

Dean turned to face a man in his late thirties, distinguished looking except for the scar across his left cheek. "That looks like it hurt," Dean remarked in a gritty tone of voice.

"Peter, call the cops, tell them that we are being held hostage by a Dean and Sam."

"Of course," Peter murmured, pulling out his cell phone.

Dean stood there, shoulders tense, fists clenched. "You killed her, didn't you? Where did you stuff her, huh?"

Peter laughed. "You really are crazy, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Dean replied gruffly, "I am." With that, he attacked Peter, throwing him down with just a few punches.

Anne and now Sam were both screaming and trying to pry Dean off Peter. "Sam, no," Dean protested as he was hauled back. "He's a monster, Sam! An evil son of a bitch!"

"Dean," Sam gasped. "What are you talking about?"

"The cops have been called and they're coming right now," Anne shouted at both of them as she desperately tried to revive her boyfriend. "Unlock the doors and let everyone out of here!"

Sam was forced to pull Dean as far from the whimpering Anne as he could before confronting his brother. "Have you lost your mind? Why are you attacking Peter?"

"The spirit… it's the spirit of Anne's best friend. She was killed here and I think Peter is the one who did it."

"What?" Sam gasped in shock. "How would you know that?"

The lights flickered just as Dean was about to answer. A figure flashed in and out of focus. Dean was no longer indifferent to her. "Tell me how I can help you," he begged in a tone of helplessness.

The spirit's voice was barely a sigh. "Let me in…"

Sam watched as the spirit pressed her fingers to Dean's chest. Strategically placed, she had covered the tattoo that protected him and Sam from possession.

"No," Sam protested loudly. "Dean, this is dangerous!"

"Give me your pocket knife, Sam," Dean demanded, eyeing him with fierce determination.

"No!"

"Fine," Dean mumbled, and dragged his lighter from his pocket. With one flick, a flame burst forth. Before he could bring it to the tattoo, Sam knocked it out of his fingers. "Sam, what the hell?"

"Exactly, Dean! What the hell? You're not giving some spirit access to your body! It's stupid and reckless and…"

"Pure me," Dean finished. "Look, I know I'm usually the one intent on labelling spirits as evil, but this one… she needs my help. And she's not gonna take this place out of lockdown until she gets it."

"It could be a trap," Sam hissed.

"Oh my god," Dean heard Anne gasp from behind him. "Charlotte?"

The spirit called Charlotte continued to gaze at Dean. "Help… her."

Dean nodded and before Sam could make a move, his brother was on him, wrestling the knife out of his pocket. "Stop it, Dean! No!" Sam yelled, but his brother already had the knife pressed to the flesh of his chest. "Dean!"

"I'll be okay, Sammy…"

"The tearing of flesh was overpowered by Sam's cry. "No!"

Charlotte had taken possession of Dean the minute the tattoo had been destroyed and Sam was no longer looking at his brother. "Don't hurt my brother, you understand me?" Sam demanded of the spirit. Dean gazed at him with forlorn eyes before bringing them to the face of the astonished Anne.

"Anne, he's dangerous. I tried to fight him but he was stronger than me. He brought me here and…"

"Char… I thought you were travelling," Anne whimpered.

"I am… sorry…"

"What happened to you?"

Sam was suddenly grabbed from behind as Peter emerged out of the shadows to confront Dean and Anne. "Wait till the cops get here! You'll be going straight to jail!" He motioned to the bouncer who restrained Sam. "Thanks, Bauer."

"Anne," Dean whispered in a voice much higher than Sam was used to. "I will let you get far away from here. I will open the doors for you and everyone else, but… Peter… he will die tonight."

Anne looked from Peter's face to Dean's. "No," she gasped.

"It is either him or you," Dean said. "I choose him."

Anne was facing Peter now, shocked when Dean's hand clasped hers. "Tell me what happened here with Charlotte," Anne ordered, standing stiff and stubborn.

"Who's Charlotte?" Peter laughed.

"Did you kill my best friend?"

Peter's face suddenly turned grim. "I had no choice. She didn't trust me, didn't like me, wanted you all to herself. She kept telling me how wrong I was for you. She said that if I didn't back off, she would do whatever it took to separate us! What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh my god," Anne choked. Now they had the attention of the entire karaoke bar. "You bastard!" She pulled herself from Dean's grip and attacked Peter. However, he was ready for it, and grabbed around her throat. All the patrons were silent, watching with horror stricken expressions on their faces.

"What are you doing?" she screamed, "Let me go!"

"I should admit, I really liked Charlotte; I even asked her to experiment with us a little, but she was a prude. Honestly, I think she had the hots for you. Doesn't matter because once she was tied up and gagged, she couldn't say one damn thing!"

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. The evil in this bar was human. "Let her go," he heard himself order.

"Aww Sammy, your attempt at heroism is simply adorable, but it's not like Bauer there is gonna let you go, so… you're more bark than bite." Peter turned his eyes on Dean. "And Dean… it looks like you've lost all momentum. Did I break your fragile spirit?"

Dean's smile was unnatural. "No."

In one motion, Dean had crossed the distance between him and Peter, lifted the pocket knife and drove it deep into Peter's chest. Anne screamed, but Peter had let her go and was now sinking to the floor, blood drooling out of his wound. The silent crowd no longer remained silent. Sam released himself from the bouncer's grip.

"Dean!" He called.

Sam watched as nearly everyone's movements slowed to a complete stop. Even those screaming now looked as though they had been trapped in a famous painting. Dean was still not Dean.

Dean was holding onto Anne's arms, attempting to keep her steady. "Char?" Anne choked.

"He tortured me, took advantage of me, and let me know that you would be next. I just… couldn't let that happen."

Anne threw her arms around Dean's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. "I never got to tell you…"

"He wasn't good enough for you. No one is good enough for you, Annie…"

"You should've told me," Anne choked, pulling back in an attempt to compose herself. "Why would you let me make such a huge mistake!"

"Because I didn't think…" Dean faltered.

"What?" pleaded Anne. "Tell me!"

"It should've been me!"

Anne's eyes widened. "What? Char…"

"I loved you, Annie. I was the only one good enough for you. I just… I couldn't say anything because I wasn't sure you felt the same." Dean touched the necklace around Anne's neck lightly. "I'm sorry I kept this secret… and I'm sorry I told you too late, but… I needed to tell you."

Anne nodded, mopping at the fresh tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. "I did," she admitted, pressing her hands to Dean's face.

"What?"

"I did feel the same. Charlotte… I love you." She leaned up, pressing her lips gingerly to Dean's.

Sam watched with the sudden notion of why Dean had been chosen for this specific mission. The kiss was brief as the spirit of Charlotte left Dean's body in a stream of light. He stumbled back, grabbing his lips then grabbing his wounded chest.

"Ow!"

"Dean?" Sam called, approaching to grab his brother's shoulders.

"Ghost possession is not fun, Sammy" he admitted. "Damn! I've gotta take a major leak now." He stopped upon first sight of the frozen room. "Uh…" he laughed awkwardly. "What the hell… is with everyone?"

Sam only shrugged. Dean took off to the bathroom and Sam glanced down at the body of Peter lying a few feet from the exit. "What… what happens now?" Anne whimpered, coming up alongside him. "Why is everyone so… still? I have never seen anything like this before…"

"And let's hope you never do, again, Anne."

"Who _are _you two?" She gasped, staring at him in fascination.

"Doesn't matter because after this conversation, you won't remember a thing."

"What?" she laughed nervously.

Sam glanced up, closed his eyes and prayed. "Cas?" he called.

Not even a second had passed before Sam heard the rush of wings. "I'm here, Sam."

"You were always here, weren't you?" The angel gazed at him, but was unable to keep the truth from his expression.

"Yes," he finally admitted. His bright blue eyes slid over to the stunned Anne who could only stare at him with her mouth open.

Sam cleared his throat and swept his hair back. "Anne," he started calmly, "This is Castiel; he's an angel."

Anne turned to face Castiel, eyes popping with her astonishment of him. "Wow! I mean… really?"

"Hello Anne," Castiel greeted nonchalantly.

"Hi," she choked.

The angel nodded with his usual expressionless face and with one hand raised, the entire bar came to life again. Although, now everyone simply left their seats and headed to the exits without a word.

"I suggest you close your eyes," Castiel said and lifted his hand meaningfully towards her. "I promise you will leave here as the others did—without any memories of what has transpired here."

"Wait," she protested, meeting first his eyes than Sam's. "Don't… I uh… I don't want to forget."

"Are you sure?" Sam whispered.

"Yes," she murmured. "I said goodbye to the love of my life, tonight; I don't want to forget that."

Sam nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about what happened to her."

Unable to control the tears any longer, she sank into Sam's arms and cried. Castiel took this opportunity to vanish without another word.

Later on that night, Sam found Castiel sitting alone on the green mustang just outside of Bobby's. He went to the pensive angel and stood there just within sight until Castiel finally acknowledged him.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey… thinking again?"

"Always," Castiel replied.

Sam nodded and leaned against the mustang. "I saw something miraculous today."

"What was that?"

Sam smiled. "True love."

"Impossible."

"Well, it looked like it could've been," Sam muttered. "Is it possible for someone else… to become an infinite soul?"

"I don't know," the angel confessed, slipping stiffly off the Mustang. "I suppose it is possible."

"Just as long as there's true love shared by both parties," Sam added.

"There is more to it, Sam."

"Yeah, I'm lookin at it."

Silence fell until Castiel finally spoke, his voice firm. "If we talk about this anymore, then we are bound to raise suspicion."

Sam nodded, straightening. "I'm really glad you're protecting my brother, Cas. I don't know how to begin to thank you for your loyalty to him."

"Stay your silence; that is all I ask, Sam."

The door slammed and Castiel vanished. Dean was standing there, a grin on his face as he practically bounced down the stairs jovially. "Hey, Sammy! It's a good night tonight! Wanna get crazy at a bar?"

Sam's jaw dropped, but Dean immediately added with a chuckle,

"Just kiddin, dude. I think I'm finished with bars for a while. A long while, especially karaoke bars."

"Same here," Sam admitted.

"So why you out here? Callin on your lover? It's okay to admit it, Sammy? You know what happens if you keep secrets too long, right? You feel bad when it's too late."

Sam dropped his head in frustration. "Jerk," he mumbled.

"Bitch," Dean retorted with a snicker. "But seriously dude, I'm happy for you and Cas. I really am. You two are a match made in… well, you know."

"Okay, you know what," Sam started, chasing his brother back into Bobby's house. "What if it's not me he loves? What if it's you?"

The door hit Dean without warning as he stood there, mouth open in shock. "Are you friggin kidding me?"

Sam stared at his brother, biting hard on his bottom lip.

"Sam?" Dean pressed. "Sam! Damnit, Sam you had better tell me…"

"I'm kidding, Dean," Sam said then laughed awkwardly. "Of course I'm kidding."

Dean blew out a breath of relief. "I knew it. Jesus, Sam, what the hell is wrong with you, trying to pawn off your boyfriend on me?" His smirk returned, but there was something new behind it now. Sam realized as he watched his brother's eyes swim behind his hardened expression that he never should have opened the floodgates. "What's going on, Sammy?" Dean called, snapping his fingers in Sam's face.

"Nothing," Sam snapped, swatting at the fingers with one hand. "I um… I'm just tired. It's been a long night and I just wanna forget about it."

Dean stepped back, all manner of joking gone from his now serious expression. "Alright, Sammy, no problem."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sam murmured, retreating to the room Bobby had temporarily borrowed to him. Bobby was out on a hunt of his own and would not be back for at least a week so Dean had his room.

Once alone, the door closed and the lights out, Sam prayed softly. "Cas… I just want to apologize for what I told Dean. I think I saved it from getting out of hand, but I'm still sorry." In minutes afterward, he was asleep.

Dean, on the other hand, remained awake, sitting in the kitchen with his fingers curled around a tumbler of whiskey. Sam was joking, he knew that. Of course he knew that. There was no one who knew that boy better than Dean, and he knew when he was joking. He lifted the tumbler to his lips and drank deeply from it, allowing the amber liquid to warm his insides. Sam was joking, he replayed, going over the conversation in search of something that might indicate otherwise. His heart was suddenly pounding so hard that he was forced to place the glass down or risk dropping it. With both hands, he gripped his chest. The pain of his wound returned. In one fluid motion, he removed his shirt to witness the gash across his tattoo. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, and for the first time in six whole months, he called on Castiel. The presence of the angel was unmistakable, and he turned in his chair to find Castiel standing in the doorway as poised as ever.

"Hello Dean," he greeted tonelessly.

"Cas," Dean responded, surprised to find that his heart was still racing. "I uh… was reckless tonight, and uh… pretty much gave full access to all demons and hell spawn alike, for a good reason which you already know, but still… I know this is a lot to ask, especially since… you apparently saved my life once already this year, but…"

Castiel covered the distance between them in three long strides, lifted his hand to the gash on Dean's chest, and within seconds, it was gone, leaving the tattoo completely intact. Even though the touch was brief, it was warm—really warm—and it travelled throughout him just like the whiskey. It was better than the whiskey.

"Uh… thanks," Dean heard himself utter, swiftly pulling his shirt back on.

Castiel nodded.

"Have you suddenly gone mute?" Dean attempted to joke.

"No," Castiel replied. "I should go."

Dean cleared his throat. "Oh yeah… big things afoot up there no doubt. Have a…"

The angel was gone and Dean sat there with his words hanging in the air that now seemed stale and unnecessary. "What the hell is wrong with me," he scolded himself, downing the last of his whiskey in one gulp. "I need sleep. I'm tired and I'm overthinking… and I'm talking to myself. Good god, Sammy, I think I'm losing it." On his way to his room, he suddenly stopped, wondering why he was seeing flashes of light and feeling warmth like he had never felt before. Weakly, he collapsed against the door. His hand rose to his chest, gripping the material of his shirt as waves of warmth washed over him. He shut his eyes, glimpsed the light for a second, then it was over. He straightened, releasing his shirt. "Damn," he breathed. "Wow…" He decided that he would not tell Sam about this strange episode, but he did silently hope that he would experience it one more time.


End file.
